Long Trolls Poems
Long Trolls Poems. Below are the most popular long Trolls by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trolls poems by poem length and keyword.
Wait ! the troll said.....
As he jumped in front of him.
You have the smell of humans on you.
Therefore, I can not let you pass thru.
The mouse said, but I have just what you need.
The troll looked him up and down, and ask.
Now just what would that be?
What is it that you think you have?
" That I want", asks the troll.
The mouse always heard that trolls were
really very stupid.
The mouse replied......
But you let the others pass.
I know this because I saw it.
Troll answered, yes, but, that has nothing to do with you.
And if you displease me, I will eat you on this day.
The mouse thought to himself.......
Magic always works, but, only when you think you haven't
been tricked.
Troll replied, well I'm waiting, to cook you in my dinner pot.
Within my cave of cold gray stone as I chew on your bones.
Though I do prefer the taste of human little girls, and boys.
The mouse got that gleam in his eye, "as he replied".
When I was out and about this very morning I saw the valley.
Where all the human girls and boys come out to play.
There's even some that hang out in a basket all day.
The troll's eyes got very big, as he asks", where is this valley?
The mouse said, with a big grin, why", it's just back over that hill.
The troll said, if you are lying to me, I will eat you when I get back.
And he walked off over that hill, as he said, wait for me here.
The mouse waited till the troll was far enough away.
So he could be on his way, the mouse thought to himself.
There really may be a valley where human children play.
But not over that hill, maybe over another hill, but not there.
At leastways not anywhere near that hungry old troll.
As the mouse went on his way, he thought......
The trouble with trolls is, " they're really very stupid".
4/ 27/ 2012 pm
She’s known as the Queen of Poop poems, funny and bold
And reading her humorous poems never ever gets old
Her poems brighten my days and make me laugh out loud
With her writing skills and comedic talent, she should feel proud
I hope she continues to write these wonderful gems
Her Poop poems are upbeat and fun for all PS friends
Jan writes funny limericks and bawdy poems too
If someone doesn’t like them, they haven’t a clue
A talented poet who places high in contest challenges
Her witty talent does give her some contest advantages
Trolls, sharks and fakes please pack up and move along
There must be other places to play your negative songs
3/24/19
Oh spite, oh hell – to the Hell in my own name too!
The hell in love, the hell in romance, the hell of all men!
He being in my name as well of course… as if I’m made of men!
Do they control me? Na… funnily enough the sound of
my name’s conclusion… and what (no doubt) a modern man
would say at my fawning
Aside: What Demetrius feels about me without love’s potion.
for them. My name; partly made up of them all -
Hel e na.
He created me.
Created my name.
This man who shook history, shakes the
vast fields of stages still: created language,
created insults and idioms, created footlickers
and scullions and loons.
Aside: What Demetrius calls me, no doubt.
What if though, we were thrown into modern day -
we four tangled lovers? Our forest now a cobbled
city street, our names a hashtag or blend or
portmanteau of #Demena or #Hermander…
Aside: or #paintedmaypolegetsherman
…how my old Bard would laugh and
we would be his self-coined ‘laughing stock’.
I’ve been in ink and upon folio paper. Aloft a stage
and before groundlings: photographed on set, reviewed in
magazines, photoshopped
Aside: False imitation! Spurious image!
for internet trolls - a word
with a very different meaning to the faeries I’ve met.
How language adapts! But what, pray tell, stays?
Intrigue. Love. Summer seasons and shows,
his words, his characters - us and you and your
interest in him: a roundel we return to even
in his words we unknowingly use…
I should know of course… He made me after all…
Hel e na…
and you, in your hands and seats and voices,
still make me feel that same love and spite and Hell.
Neither of us are likely to be forgotten soon…
na.
Dawn sighs a crimson vapor
along a beach of trolls
(pretending to be plastic things)
fond of gleaning the mind
leaving a trail of seaweed and grit behind
that stays with you till the ends
meet time....
The yawl is beached
skin blistered blue till white
listen to wind stories whispering
truth always lies somewhere between
pulp and rind-piper and gull
solitude and scream.
Take a picture of the sunrise
through the foggy lens of
a been there- done that life
but there are new things to see
yes, worthwhile things- aren't there?
Just pan offal from pristine.
and when you've reached
what you've had all along,
hide your disappointment cleverly
wear its flaw on your ringing finger.
I'm heading for unspoiled terrain
{hopefully sooner than later}
rescued from the hearth of a deepening canyon, called uncaring.
A one-way cool air balloon ride
into the lattice of heaven.
"Gold Box, Sail"
Chamber of Gold
Destiny tasted
Unfolds
Honey deep zoned
Glory Box Opens
Unfolds
Myths and stories beckon
False Heads
Nod positive
Truth Beckons
Shakes negative
and opened,
Smiles
Whispers
Dark
Light
Kisses knees
Truth Unfolds
Unfolds
Deep Gold
The Well of Honey
Unfolds Unfolds
Sails set
Secrets met
two smiles
Unfold
Unfold
Something
Deep
Prevails
Gold
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2019)
Secondary music video (which should have been Primary...)
Sail + Glory Box (Awolnation + Portishead Mashup)
https://youtu.be/-guW12go4f0
Primary Music Video.
Which should have been secondary, but destined to be Primary.
"Sail" / Awolnation
https://youtu.be/2CaypEojjKQ
"...honey dripping into the night
a ritual stinging to the heart
blackened tongues twist and glide
side by side
destinies confide..."
"Maybe I'm a different breed..."
"Maybe I'm not listening..."
to the Trolls,
go get a life and NEVER bully me into how I should live mine.
with the
deepest
love....
1. Truth
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth
2. Reality
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality
3. Dream
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream
Get up and at ‘em be strong,
feeling I am reborn,
coming back and full on
like an atom bomb!
Expose their corruption
my life saw disruption
I’m putting right the wrong
from where I left off,
unsighted and lost,
but I’ve worked it now,
connect the dots,
going berserk (bloaw).
All I needed was understanding,
couldn’t tell, look potty and shot,
standing strong now, shouting all I’ve got.
Giving it back to cowards
for slander attack, you aint empowered,
and this ain’t back handers or slapped faces,
it’s baseball bats and collapsed in places,
metaphor, you fool,
I use words to tell all.
Remember me?
Obsessed with bringing me down,
made an enemy,
left me beaten on the ground,
it wasn’t the end of me,
by you my friend I’ll never be!!
You changed me and strained me,
left me mentally exhausted and drained,
controlling my reputation, like trolls,
shrinking opinions,
Satan spawn minions.
Strolling through life in the free,
silently proud of what you did to me,
living fearless, all clear,
wetting your pants when I reappear,
and I’ve no fear,
alive so all can hear,
survived to get here!!
I’ve so many angles to ring bells,
shake up made up minds in that hotel,
you contaminated them then, now they don’t care,
until one thought they have seems spare,
so they think back to yesteryear,
and suddenly link up as question marks appear,
as lost logic starts to become clear.
What I say will line up, ring alarms,
dislodge your corrupt,
I’m not out for physical harm or have you in a line up.
Telling my story, it’s written,
it’s just this,
come back biting poetic justice,
think I fight just fists,
I've wit and you're just twits.
Now I understand, I drop it move adjust flourish,
understand why I was discouraged,
putting truth on a perch, it ain’t perjury,
my story you got me personally.
and others won’t see the truth if they choose not,
but it’s there in view and now won’t move or be forgot,
so if people refuse they do as they do,
in time they may question clues and ask questions of you.
I’m done with it now anyway,
spoke and exposed,
my link to all this now disposed.
All I needed was to understand, now I do,
I’m a rose re-rose and roses grow,
with thorns that warn,
I’m done now, letting go.
And I’m feeling good too,
I’m living life, and I’m not you.
The smell from the burger van hits my nose
It makes me hungry, I'll buy one I s’pose
“Two pound fifty”, the greaseman says
How effin’ much! The price nowadays
For a fat and gristle patty
To make me a fatty
I hand him the money for the sweet smelling lard
It comes on a bread roll that’s bloody rock hard
Two pound fifty, the price nowadays!
“That's the price of convenience”, the greaseman says.
A bargain compared to the bourgeois burgers
Served with salsa, not sauce for the gullible splurgers
Hipsters not greasers
Well trimmed and tweasered
They rob with a smile, “it’s hundred percent Angus”
What the hell’s that mean, I'm hundred percent angryus
That I've fallen for his scam
Paid top dollar for my scram
The greaseman’s plain honesty
that his are **** quality
Gets my vote for his burgers
over up their **** hipsters
Watery ketchup and stale bread rolls
with slightly burnt onions, served by hairy old trolls
Greasemen of Britain, stand up, we salute you
Our nation is proud as we sit on the loo
As vigorous bowel movements let it all out
That's proper street food, that's what it's about
So please believe me, with all my experience
That this is the price you pay for convenience
Most people who meet her, consider her charming
But she has ghoulish traits, they’d find quite alarming
With her gleaming blonde tresses and sparkling blue eyes
Her cherubic features are just a disguise
For although she emits a celestial aura,
Angelic pastimes, quite simply, abhor her
Where other girls play with their ‘Barbie’ dolls
She has mystic wars with her hideous Trolls
Her peers, read Enid Blyton in Bed
She takes Stephen King, with his tales of the dead
And, when it comes to the movies she’s seen
A Nightmare on Elm Street, Hallow’een,
Poltergiest, Psycho, The Thing, The Blob too
These are just to name but a few
There’s nothing she likes more than a good ‘chiller’
With ghosts, ghouls and monsters, or psychotic killers
She watches the Grand Prix, to watch the cars crash
She loves to see the players fouled at a soccer match,
Ice skaters, she wills to fall flat on their faces
And athletes, when running, to trip on their laces
Yet, despite her having such a sick and perverse mind
She’s loving and caring, gentle, sensitive, kind
Unselfish and thoughtful, advanced for her ten years
Who on watching Disney films, has been known to shed a tear
Although she won’t admit to it, it’s only herself, she fools
And I wouldn’t change one inch of her, my ‘angelic’ little ghoul.
© Janette Fisher – April 1995
This poem was written 15 years ago when my youngest was 10 - she hasn't changed a bit!!!!
Anyone who still does not believe,
that an RFID conspiracy,
is being planned and implemented currently,
to implant a chip in everybody,
hasn't done extensive research apparently,
because they are all way too frightened to even possibly conceive,
of such a deceitful act as being a reality,
so they just go on with their lives of comfortable complacency,
referring to those aware, who are attempting to enlighten everybody,
as paranoid, mentally ill or tin foil hat wearing crazies,..
.. either that or they are trolls,
government moles,
planted to discredit whistle blowers attempting to inform everybody,
and discourage the unenlightened from researching freely.
Spring sashay this way
Oh look a little babbling brook a classic country scenic site
Listen to its babbling bliss It is like a greeting from the brooks water sprite,
As the water babbles over pebbles so smooth like silk so sheer
It's water effortlessly flows glistening as it's completely crystal clear
Just Look at you down there hidden away so Inconspicuous
Each inch is like a living renaissance picture, such picturesque pictures
The brook is camouflaged amongst the ditches brush
Thankfully it's babbling gives it away, a splendid sound we don't want to hush
You think you've found the end of that little babbling brook until you see
The water continues under a little trolls bridge beyond what the eye can see,
I guess it flows ahead babbling through many brooks for miles and miles ahead
Until it stream lines with a stream or reaches a rivers head
Maybe it locks with a lake or perhaps it'll even see the sea,
one thing is for sure the water in this babbling brook is forever flowing free,
Just like the flourishing leaves on all the trees
As the seasons change the shoots begin to spring from mere seeds
To little tightly caressed shoots and buds starting to fill the bare trees,
Just waiting for the sunshines kiss to awaken them just like sleeping beautys prince,
Slowly they unravel into lushes bright waxey green leaves shiny and new
Bundles of Blossom pettles as white as snow White was to,
They start to pop open like little ballerinas in pastel dresses performing cambre
Followed by the cherry blossom ballerinas opening with Echappe
Nature's starting to paint over it's autumnal canvas
With splashes of summer colour from plants like the strophanthus and dianthus,
Rainbows fill the skies with a beautiful memorial of the great seasonal battle,
Between the April showers and Mays spring sun rays who seems to have finally won.
Autumn is ending and spring has finally arrived and summer will soon have begun.